


Midnight Confessions

by CyclonicJet



Category: Little Witch Academia
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:48:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22991248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CyclonicJet/pseuds/CyclonicJet
Summary: Because their relationship didn't already have enough angst. Let's add another layer to it.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 13





	Midnight Confessions

The dull flickering lamp glowed meekly in the darkness, producing barely enough light to dispel the shroud of shadows laying thick within the room. Sitting silently atop the desk, it cast a mellow amber glow across the walls and ceiling, suffusing the room with a kind of radiant warmth. Sprawled across the desk itself lay Chariot, deeply asleep and all but dead to the world.

Her face was buried inside the soft folds of fabric that draped her right arm. In her left hand she loosely clung onto the Claiomh Solais. Her whole upper torso was slumped atop an open book, with the words on the page seeming to flare with subtle luminescence with each drawn breath she took, only to fade back into inky blackness with each new exhale.  A mountain of books loomed ominously over either side of her, threatening to topple over at the slightest disturbance. 

Other than her peaceful breathing the room was all but silent. Outside the night was total and complete. Even the moon lay veiled in the gloom.  As she dreamed her expression shifted and changed. A kind of gentle smile touched her lips. The jewels within the Claiomh Solais glowed softly in response.  She made a deeply resonant noise of contentment. A noise that seemed to echo out from her very core.

* * *

Croix sat in silence on her bed, observing Chariot over the top of her book. She had to wonder exactly what she was dreaming. Chariot had always mystified her with that bubbly personality of hers. She was a riddle she couldn’t quite solve.

Certainly Croix knew what she was about. She loved magic. It was that simple. She wanted to spread her love of it to others too. That was her goal in life. Her only goal in life. It was such a simple concept, such a simple purpose, that Croix just couldn’t understand it.

She didn’t seem to care about obtaining a deeper understanding of magic, or learning the ways in which it could actually be beneficial to the world. All she seemed to care about was the surface level flash and pretty lights it could provide. All the pomp with none of the substance.

“Spreading joy.” Croix snided quietly to herself, echoing Chariot’s own words. She couldn’t help but grip the edges of her book a little tighter as a slight frustration welled up within her. Is that all she wanted to do? She who wielded the power of the Claiomh Solais?  An artifact of such immense power, the power to change the world, and it sat in the hands of someone who didn’t even know what that meant. A low hiss escaped her mouth. ‘What a waste.’ she thought. ‘If it has just chosen me…’

A loud yawn broke the quiet. Chariot lifted herself up and stroked the back of her head. Croix quickly averted her gaze back down to her book, pretending as if she had never even glanced in her direction.

* * *

Chariot stretched, lifting one arm above her head and releasing a large lungful of air. “I needed that.” she murmured. “That was good.”

She looked down at her book for a second and then turned around to look over the back of her chair. She saw Croix huddled on her bed, reading a book by a faint light at the tip of her wand.

"Still awake are we?” she teased.

“One can not pull ahead.” she answered. “If one does not apply themselves properly.”

Chariot rolled her eyes, but in a very caring kind of way. “One should also get enough sleep to be able to apply themselves properly.” she said.

Croix gave a slight “hmm” noise in reply and flipped the page of her book, once again becoming engrossed.  Chariot spent a moment longer staring at her, then sighed quietly to herself, pressed her own book closed, and stood up from the desk. She wandered over to her own bed and lay down on top of it. It was definitely a lot more comfortable than the desk.

Another stifled yawn escaped her and she tilted her head so she could see Croix still engrossed in her book across the room. “What are you reading?” she asked.

It took her a moment to respond. “A publication on the application and integration of magic with modern electronics.” she said, her eyes never leaving the book.

Chariot blinked. “Is it any good?”

“I’m finding it thoroughly riveting.” she answered.

“That’s good.” Chariot offered. “Do you think that I’d-“

“No.” Croix cut in over her. “It's not something I think you’d enjoy.”

“Oh.” she said somewhat deflatedly. “Okay. Sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” Croix asked, a genuine confusion laced in her voice.

Chariot held her tongue for a moment. “Never mind.” she murmured, turning away to look at the wall behind her.

* * *

Croix paused her reading to again look over the top of her book at Chariot. She was gazing into the wall that bordered her bed. What was she sorry about? Why had she felt the need to apologise?  Had she somehow upset her? But she had no idea why she would be upset. 

After spending a moment more considering it, Croix gave a mental shrug. This was just another riddle to add to the pile that was Chariot du Nord. If she wanted to be weird about literally nothing that was her problem. Not Croix’s.  She cast her gaze back down at her book and read on. 

Minutes ticked by and the light of the lamp on the desk started to wane. Croix furrowed her brow in frustration. She was struggling to understand the words on the page. She had already re-read the same passage three times, but it just wasn’t processing inside her head.  A gnawing sensation clawed at the back of her mind. She stopped her attempts at reading to examine the feeling more closely. 

To her surprise the sensation almost felt like guilt. But that was absurd. She had nothing to feel guilty about.  Without conscious thought she found herself looking over the edge of her book again at Chariot. She was still staring obstinately and quite fixedly at the wall, and very obviously not at her.

Croix spent a full minute battling with the emotion. She attempted to bat it down and ignore it. She had a book to finish and this was only serving to distract her. But try as she might the feeling persisted, as it resisted all logical attempts to dismiss it.

She sighed. There was only one way to resolve this. “What’s wrong?”

Chariot didn’t respond. Croix waited expectantly for her to answer. It never came. After about a minute passed Croix felt herself becoming aggravated. She still felt needlessly guilty and Chariot wasn’t making her life any easier by resolving it for her.

“Have I upset you?” she asked putting the book down on her lap. Her silence was deafening. Croix found herself grinding her teeth. “Come on! Tell me!”

Chariot shifted slightly but otherwise said nothing.

“I’m sorry! Is that what you want me to say!?” Still she said nothing. “What exactly am I supposed to be sorry for!? Saying you wouldn’t enjoy the book!?”

Chariot’s continued obstinate refusal to talk was infuriating. “Or is it something else? I’m not a mind reader Du Nord. Tell me!”

More minutes passed and still she did not respond. Croix found her patience being pushed to the breaking point. “Fine then.” she muttered putting her book down. If Chariot wouldn’t talk, then she would. “You’re not the only one who can play this game Du Nord. So let me tell you what my feelings are.”

* * *

“Do you think you're the only one here who is hurting? That I am not also suffering?”

“Ever since we met I’ve known you were exceptional. You have a talent for magic that few could ever match. But that doesn’t change the fact that I am forced to sit here, day in and day out, watching you parade around with the key to the most powerful magical force in the world. And I am forced to endure seeing you show that truly amazing fact no respect at all. Neither respect for the rod itself or what it represents.”

She cast her eyes up to the red mess Chariot called her hair.  “You think you’re the only one dreams of a better world? Why do you think I study so hard? Because that’s the only way I can achieve it.” She slipped her hand up to her forehead and ran it through her hair, eventually leaving the palm to rest against her forehead.

“I wasn’t blessed or chosen like you. I wasn’t gifted the power to alter the world with a magic rod. Or an overabundance of raw natural talent. No. I’ve had to work for it. Every single day of my life. I’ve had to work for it.” 

A dark grimace broke her face. “So tell me. Do you really believe that some cheap magic show can equal that work? That you could ever actually change the world with nothing more than a carnival sideshow?”

Her grimace broke down into an ugly glower. “Whereas I’m actually going to affect some real change. My work. My ideas. They will uplift all witches. Benefit all mankind.”  Her glower took on a nasty sneer. “While you play dress up and perform cheap side shows for children.”  A low mocking laugh crossed her lips. “As if that could actually change the world...”

Chariot remained stony quiet to her words and a renewed silence again took up its reign.

* * *

Croix eventually found her eyes staring at the desk. Affixed as they were to the Claiomh Solais sitting peacefully atop it. “It should have chosen me.” Croix whispered. “The good I could have achieved with it. The power to make all my dreams a reality...but no.” She turned back to look at Chariot, “I’ve had to take the hard road to reach my ambitions. And I would be okay with that…” she paused. “...if it weren’t for you.”

She fell back against the wall and pressed the palm of her hand even harder against her face. “I could suffer it all. The work. The studying. The gruelling challenge to succeed. If I didn’t also have to see you every single day. Waltzing around with that power in your hand. The kind of power I can only dream of…”

She scowled. “So. Do you know now why I am suffering Chariot Du Nord?” she asked pushing herself forward again and staring at the back of her head. “Have you pieced it together yet?”

The same stoic quiet pervaded her. Croix glared at her.

“I suffer because you have proven yourself completely unworthy of possessing that power. And I’m the only one who can see it.”

A renewed frown formed upon her lips, and a slight welling of tears formed in her eyes to accompany it. “That I have to watch one of the most talented young witches of the age, wasting her talents performing sideshow magic acts!”  A bitter laugh escaped her. “While others far more deserving-who actually deserve to wield that kind of power are left to struggle. To strive to try and capture the barest inkling of such power.”

She balled her fist and pressed it as hard as she could against the bed. “That’s why I am suffering. To know you could be so much more. Do so much more. And you choose to do nothing with that potential. You squander your talents. You squander the gifts the universe lays at your feet. You squander everything! While I struggle to try and keep up! Do you know what that is Chariot Du Nord!? It’s not fair! That’s what this all is! It’s not FAIR!”

She had finally said it. The gnawing grievances that had for so long chewed away at the back of her mind. They were out there now. Her true feelings spilled forth and laid bare to the world. The truth revealed at last.

The full realisation of what she had just said struck at her like a mace. Her fury and anger dissolved swiftly into worry and panic. She began chewing at her lip. How would Chariot take this revelation? What was she thinking right now? Had she been too harsh? Too honest? Would she hate her now for it?

A knot sat lodged in her stomach as she waited for Chariot’s response. Seconds ticked into minutes and still she said nothing. The pain was consuming her. The uncertainty was merciless. The wait was agonising. She couldn’t take it anymore.

But Chariot didn’t need to speak. Her silence was answer enough. “I’m sorry Chariot.” she whispered, tears leaking from her eyes. “Please...please don’t hate me.”

Chariot stirred. Croix’s eyes bolted up to her. She shifted slightly. Then came a sound more painful than Croix could have ever imagined. She yawned. The unmistakable sound of someone waking up.

* * *

Chariot flipped herself over and blinked groggily. She must have dozed off not longer after climbing into bed. Perhaps she was more tired then she thought. She stared into the half gloom of the room and could just about make out Croix still sitting on her bed. She was staring back at her. “Croix?” she mumbled quizzically. She spent a half second looking dazedly at her as she slowly processed what she was seeing. Then as the full nature of her physical state became more clear to her, Chariot’s expression collapsed into one of deep concern. 

Croix was a mess. Her hair was dishevelled. Her cheeks were streaked with tears. She bore a look that was somehow one part despair, one part sorrow, and one part shock. But the overwhelming impression was that of pain. A horrendous emotional pain. “Croix! What’s wrong!?” she yelled pushing herself off the bed.

Croix continued staring at her moment longer, the look of utter horror transfixed to her face. Then she suddenly slammed her hand to her head and slowly shook her head from side to side.

* * *

She should have known better. This was Chariot. Of course she had been asleep. What else should she have expected?

A very quiet and self deprecating bark of laughter escaped her. This was her reward for confession. Emotional distress. A deep aching pain in her chest. And Chariot had heard none of it. All she had accomplished was wasting her breath.

“Croix?” Chariot whispered, her voice laced with genuine concern.

Croix took a deep halting breath and struggled to regain her composure. “It’s nothing.” she lied. “I’m fine.”

“But-“

Croix waved a hand and mentally whipped herself to calm down. “Honestly. I’m fine. Just leave it alone.” 

A momentary pause filled the air. “You can talk to me you know...if you need to...” she mumbled.

‘No.’ Croix thought. ‘Apparently I cannot.’

She found the feeling of guilt that had been chewing inside her had dissipated now. In its place was now just a cold dispassion. Not hate or anger. Not loathing or cruelness. Just an empty feeling instead.  Chariot would always be Chariot. There was nothing that was ever going to change that. So there was no point in even trying with her anymore. From now on Croix would simply look ahead, and focus on what really mattered.

Feeling more clear headed then she had in a long time she picked her book back up and flicked back to her abandoned page. 

“I’ll keep the offer in mind.” she answered in wholly disinterested manner. She picked up her wand and struck up a new light. It's wane and pale light standing in stark contrast to the warm glow that had pervaded the room before. The lamp on the desk gave out one last flicker of life, before finally sizzling itself out into nothingness.

**Author's Note:**

> Because their relationship didn't already have enough angst. Let's add another layer to it.


End file.
